“Well, I like you too well to think you capable of such conduct, but let us be moderate, for we may have to part to-morrow. You must confess that if we yielded to desire, this parting would be all the more bitter. If you are of another opinion, that only shews that your ideas of love and mine are different.”
“Then tell me of what sort of love is that with which I am happy enough to have inspired you?”
“It is of such a kind that enjoyment would only increase it, and yet enjoyment seems to me a mere accident.”
“Then what is its essence?”
“To live together in perfect unity.”
“That’s a blessing we can enjoy from morning to eve, but why should we not add the harmless accident which would take so short a time, and give us such peace and tranquillity. You must confess, Pauline, that the essence cannot exist long without the accident.”
“Yes, but you in your turn, you will agree that the food often proves in time to be deadly.”
“No, not when one loves truly, as I do. Do you think that you will not love me so well after having possessed me?”
“No, it’s because I think quite otherwise, that I dread to make the moment of parting so bitter.”
“I see I must yield to your logic. I should like to see the food on which you feed your brain, otherwise your books. Will you let me come upstairs?”